A profanely mystical work of hyperpurple theory-porn, "ObliviOnanisM" is an auto-erotic intellectual fiction envisioning the phantastical unending odyssey of a young woman, Gemma, whom you will never know. "ObliviOnanisM is some pretty weird shit . . . Language-wise, it's written like one of Lovecraft's fantasy stories, all flowery and dense, winding prose. We go deep into Gemma's darkest desires . . . The general tone and feeling of the text are equal parts Bataille and Story of O . . . frankly, it's amazing to me that this book even exists." - David Peak, author of Glowing in the Dark (Aqueous Books) "The Young-Girl's ass is sufficient for her to feel an incommunicable singularity . . . Between the Young-Girl and the world there is a window. Nothing touches the Young-Girl, and the Young-Girl touches nothing." - Tiqqun "So does it work? Surprisingly, yes. The 'hyperpurple' prose recalls the anonymous French erotica that was so ripe to pop up in the 50s, 60s, and 70s, approaching metaphysical plateaus of the phantastique . . . This body has organs but they dissolve into a gushy pool of sweat, spit, and come, but this doesn't form an abject pile of abasement, rather it launches Gemma into the ethereal fluidity of the float." - Impossible Mike (M. Kitchell), author of Slow Slidings (Blue Square Press), via HTMLGIANT "The theory all spills from and returns to an autoerotic examination of self and body and so a pornographically close observation and sensation of both is much closer to the heart of the intent here than anything more detached from them. That it always points back to, and, um, penetrates, that center is exactly as it should be. If this sounds like something you would enjoy, you probably will." - Nate Dorr, Hyraxical Apocrypha On Chapter 1, "Indescribable: "'. . .an untellable tale of infinitely intertwining thoughts and images, a tapestry of terrifyingly successive concepts and visions . . .'" Nothing is indescribable. A Molly's MONologue from 'Ulysses' now third person singular inside Gemma's auto-erotic imaginarium . . . This is a wild prose free-flowing explosion that reminds me of the earlier work of James Havoc in Creation Press and the bukkake of Mike Philbin / Hertzan Chimera. . . . here we no longer care (explicitly) and we find ourselves breathing just for the sake of breathing in a place safely back where we were but have forgotten we were before starting to read these sinuosities of MONstrance. Indescribabble." - D. F. Lewis, on Transactions of the Flesh